


Training Games

by artoni



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Sticky, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artoni/pseuds/artoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In those days at Iacon, Alpha Trion took Smokescreen under his wing in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Games

**Author's Note:**

> Strong liberties taken with the period Smokescreen is guarding Alpha Trion at Iacon. And by 'strong liberties' I mean 'days' are now 'months'. At least, by human standards. Same deal I gave to Tumblr; planning on making this a multichaptered fic, will accept suggestions of kinks to write, no promises on which/when/etc. I intend everything, I guarantee nothing.

It had been months since it started. Months since the accidental glimpse that had turned in to the dumbfounded staring that had turned in to...more. In hindsight, Smokescreen wondered if it hadn't been happenstance. If Alpha Trion had deliberately- well, he knew the old mech was shrewd and cunning beyond belief, but to this _day_ he didn't know for sure whether or not Alpha Trion had planned all that.

Whether he'd known, somehow, that Smokescreen really didn't mind someone taking the lead from time to time, especially from someone more experienced - for all that he fully intended to be the experienced one, one day, he knew he needed to learn and why not from the best? - and moreso, Smokescreen didn't mind being...

Paid attention to?

Overloaded out of his slaggin' processor, was more like it. Often more than once in a row. Alpha Trion was _devilish_ in his creativity, completely unexpected from the calm demeanor he presented to the world. He had a wicked sense of humor which turned him in to a fraggin' _tease_ when it came to interfacing, holding Smokescreen on the edge for what seemed like years at a time before finally, _finally_ letting him overload.

Or just holding him - gently - in place while he pumped a false spike in and out of his valve, one that maybe whirled with inner gears and machinery, or one that maybe sent jolts of current that had Smokescreem jerk with every zap, or maybe one that was so thick it almost _hurt_ in the stretch but filled him so very, very well...

For whatever reason, Alpha Trion didn't use his own equipment much. Not for lack of Smokescreen _wanting_ to attend it - if Trion could lead, then Smokescreen could _beg_ (in more than one way) - but it was rare. Rare to the point that when Alpha Trion finally did break down and open his panel, Smokescreen could have danced in victory.

Smokescreen couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like it was overly small or big or _ugly_ or anything to be ashamed of, it was just- a spike. One that, when he was on his knees and pumping and licking, he could idly note seemed extremely well crafted (was that _scrollwork_? it almost looked like a language), but never thought much of when it was over, the details slipping from his mind like lost fluid.

Not so much the look on Alpha Trion's face, the normally controlled, serene expression twisted in to one of abject pleasure...it made him hungry for the next time he could convince the old mech. Maybe next time he could convince Trion in to letting him use the toys...

Alpha Trion made it clear that he got just as much out of their 'games' that Smokescreen did, though. When Smokescreen overloaded enough by himself for the both of them he wasn't sure how, but Alpha Trion assured him over and over that it was, and Smokescreen eventually let it drop, willingly or not. The first time he'd brought it up Trion had just smiled (smirked? it was close to a smirk) at him, and promptly restarted the vibrations of the false spike and urged Smokescreen to another, processor-shaking overload.

When it was over he was exhausted, lying on his side, and could only watch as Alpha Trion absentmindedly stroked his cheek before he succumbed to recharge.

He might not have been so willing to put himself in a position like this - repeatedly - if Trion wasn't so _attentive_. It was like he could read Smokescreen and his body better than Smokescreen could himself. When Smokescreen became stressed and impatient, wanting nothing more than to go out there and _help_ , it was Alpha Trion who calmly suggested a distraction, and soon had Smokescreen on his back, taking out his frustration by chasing overload, and if it seemed wrong to want it while others were out there fighting and getting hurt and he couldn't _help_ , then Trion did a _damn_ good job of chasing all of those thoughts out of his head, period, until there was nothing left, nothing but an ache and _need_ and then...and then...

And when it wasn't an overload he needed, Trion saw to _that_ , as well. Giving him other distractions. Duties. It was only if Smokescreen started becoming destructive in some way or another that he truly pressed the issue, but even then, Smokescreen never felt _forced_ in to it. Encouraged, persuaded, _seduced_ maybe, but never pushed in to something he generally _did not want to do_. It seemed that the moment things were heading in that direction, Alpha Trion would pause, look at him with an unreadable expression, and then continue - sans whatever it was that was starting to distress.

And sometimes, Alpha Trion _did_ hurt him, but somehow it only made him arch and beg for more, _needing_ the pain as much as the distraction. And after every time, every single time of that, Alpha Trion would take him in to his arms afterwards and hold him until the shaking stopped, until he was finally able to rest. And _every time_ when he came back to true awareness, Trion would be there. Either still holding him, or carefully repairing his armor to pristine condition, or with a cube of energon to bring to his lips...

Alpha Trion was only the thing that made this post bearable. It wasn't like there were many other things to do, other than run patrols, and they had to entertain themselves _somehow_ , right? So Smokescreen never questioned it, never questioned Trion, never _ever_ questioned when Trion assured him with complete and utter sincerity and conviction that his time would come...

Not even when he was here now, hanging limply in a Decepticon warship, every part of him sore and aching. He was tired, and of all places to feel utterly useless...

For all he knew, Alpha Trion was dead.

Smokescreen gripped his fists, dimmed his optics, and tried to think of a way to get out of here and avenge his mentor.


End file.
